Sherlock Homles and the case of the Missing WMD
by Mr. Chaos
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and Watson are sent forward in time by the United State's government to help them find the Weapons of Mass Destruction


The Case of the Missing WMDs

By Kevin Allen

It had only been a few months after my marriage that I happened to find myself walking past my old home, 221 Baker Street. I stood there for a moment, and considering that I had finished my rounds early and my wife wouldn't be expecting me for another 2 hours, I felt I had the time to visit with my old friend, Sherlock Holmes. I had been walking all that morning to visit patients, and the cold March winds had chilled me to the bone. At that moment, there was no greater desire in my being then to be in front of a roaring fire.

As I entered the room, I found that Holmes was seated in his favorite chair, dressed in a pair of silk pajamas I had given him last Christmas, his robe fasten tight about his waist. In his hands he held his snuffbox, his long fingers wrapped around its red wood surface. At his feet lay half a dozen newspapers, crumpled and discarded. The room smelt of smoke and chemicals, a copper odor for one that had spent time with Holmes. However, there was something else in the air. I could not place its scent, but it tasted as if the air was dotted with copper.

Holmes looked up from his musing and smiled, standing up to clasp my hand. He recoiled the moment he touched them, and rang for Mrs. Hudson. When she appeared, he ordered for brandy and took me to his chair, plopping me down and making sure I was in direct line of the fire's heat.

"My dear Watson, what were you thinking, walking 7 blocks straight without ducking into a shop to get something to cover your fingers? I doubt you can serve your patients if you yourself are bedridden and your fingers lopped off due to frostbite!"

He took the bottle from Mrs. Hudson, and poured me a tall glass. I took it and sipped on it, feeling it's warming effects work upon my heart and stomach. The fire also helped to warm my limbs, and very soon I was feeling much better.

"How did you know I walked 7 blocks Holmes?" I asked him after a bit. I stood to give him his chair, but he refused, his strong hand gently yet firmly pushing me back down into my spot.

"My dear Watson, I have studied many things in my life, and one of them is the effect of cold upon a body, especially for long periods. It is a fascinating thing to learn about, and very helpful in my line of work. By taking the temperature of a body, I can tell how long it has been in that spot, given that there hasn't been a radical change in climate."

I frowned, watching my friend clear away some books from a tattered stool, pulling it alongside the chair. He had set down his snuffbox and now taken a small glass, which he too had filled with brandy.

"Very interesting Holmes…but how could you tell I walked 7 blocks? All the temperature would have informed you of is how long I had traveled, not how far."

Holmes' eyes twinkled as he took another sip, gazing into the fire then back upon me. "You must also understand Watson, that I have also made it a study to be able to guess how long a person could walk, or how fast if you like. You have taken some time to get here, roughly an hour or so since being in a warm house or carriage, and you can not travel great lengths quickly."

"Holmes!" I said, quite put off by his remark.

Holmes shook his head. "There is no need to be offended by the truth Watson. Now, a man who had less wealth would be able to walk farther, due to his less confining clothing. However, his diet would make him tire quicker, and he would grow cold much faster. Because of your station, I am able to guess your speed, and with the time, calculate how far you had traveled." Holmes closed his eyes. "You will learn Watson that even the smallest fact can help in discovering the answer to the greatest of mysteries." He paused, looking over to my former bedroom. "I suppose you noticed the taste of copper in the air when you arrived."

I nodded. "I had assumed you were working on one of your many experiments. It is not uncommon to smell things in this room."

"But it is to TASTE them Watson. Surely, that must have told you something was different."

"It had, for a moment. But when I found you as I always do, and the fact that Mrs. Hudson had not mentioned that anyone was here, I assumed…"

"That is your problem Watson. Always has been." Holmes stated plainly, setting his glass down and looking at me. "You should never assume. I have learned that over the course of my carreer, and considering the events that have taken place before your arrival, I dare say I can state this to be scientific fact."

I looked at Holmes, confused, then back to the room. My eyes went to the hat rack, and I saw no coat. I inspected the chairs, and saw no indent where a person may have sat. The windows had a fine layer of dust upon them, proving that there had been no one to sneak in through them, less they be able to do so without placing their hands upon the sill. The broken and burning logs showed that the fire had been going for hours; no going down the chimney.

Holmes watched as I searched the room, his lips twisted ever so slightly into a smile. He finally clapped his hands together and stood up. "My dear Watson, we will make you a detective yet. Your eyes picked up on every possible way to get into this room. You make me proud."

"And yet, I still do not see how someone could be here, or what that would have to do with the coppery taste of the air."

Holmes looked around, then ran to the door, checking to insure Mrs. Hudson wasn't eavesdropping. Once he was secure with our being alone, he turned back to me, his eyes afire.

"I must first insure that you have an open mind Watson. What you will be hearing soon is so improbable, so impossible…that it has to be fact. There is no other way to explain it." Holmes close to me, his voice hushed. "My dear friend…is your mind open to what I am about to tell you? Or will you call me mad, even should it sound as if I am?"

I looked at my friend carefully. A normal man would have assumed that Holmes had already slipped into some kind of insanity, and was now trying to drag others down with him. However, my experiences with him had taught me that more times then not, when Sherlock Holmes got worked up about something, it was best to go along with him.

I nodded, and Holmes stood up. "I am afraid I have not given you the option to guess what happened before your arrival. Were I in your place, I would also be confused. You see Watson, no one entered this room. Instead, " Holmes paused, taking a breath, "someone appeared in the room."

"Appeared?"

Holmes nodded. "I was sitting here, busy reading the paper, when out of no where, a man appeared, dressed in a suit, wearing dark glassed. I was startled, but decided to see exactly who this man was. At first I assumed he was a magician. As you know, I have had a few enter here trying to see if I can guess their tricks."

I nodded. I had, on more then one occasion, been witness to some sort of magic that had baffled me. Holmes, in all these cases, would tell the magician that they needed to fine tune their tricks and send them on their way.

"Where is this man now Holmes?"

"He has been waiting in my bedroom. When I saw you on the street, I told him to wait in there, so we could see if you were ready to join us on our adventure. So far, you have proven yourself, so I believe I shall invite him to rejoin us."

"But Holmes!" I said, standing up. "I must be getting home. My wife expects me, and I can't afford to miss dinner again. She is planning a special meal, and she would be heartbroken if I didn't show up."

Holmes, however, had already moved to his door. "My dear Watson, I promise you that you will be eating dinner with your dear wife, as planned." Holmes opened the door, and after saying a few words that escaped my ear, turned back to me. "May I present Agent Henry Mewes."

In entered a tall fellow, one that rivaled Sherlock. He had brown hair cut trim and neat, with a face that was cool and collected. He was clean-shaven, and from what I could gather from his face, he seemed to be examining the room, though I couldn't be sure, since his eyes were covered by his dark glasses.

He wore a black suit of cut I had never seen before. It was opened at the top, revealing a blue tie and white shirt. His pants were pressed and creased, and his shoes polished. He had a strange instrument upon his left ear, which I assumed was some sort of decorative jewelry. Most strange was a small watch he wore upon his wrist. It was, in all appearances, a normal watch, except it's face was twice the size of any watch I had ever seen. It had several knobs on the side with little grooves upon them for grabbing and twisting, as well as a strange opening at the top, a small light blinking. In his hands, Agent Mewes had a newspaper tucked neatly.

"Watson, Agent Mewes is a member of the United States Secret Service, whose duty it is to guard the life of the President."

I looked at the agent. Being American explained the strange items and clothing. Americans tended to be a bit wilder in their dress, preferring to change looks on a whim instead of merely sticking with the classic and practical look.

"I was not aware that the Secret Service was in charge of the President. I always assumed their number one function was to prevent counterfeiters."

Agent Mewes nodded. "That it is sir," He stated, his voice deep yet smooth. "In this era."

Holmes nodded. "You see Watson, in the times we live in, the Secret Service still works to prevent counterfeit money. But in Agent Mewes' time, they are the bodyguards of the President."

I looked to Holmes, then back to the Agent, then once more to my friend. My mind still raced and processed the words. "Mewes' Time."

"Holmes…what are you saying?" I managed to stammer.

"Watson, this man, he comes from 116 years in the future."

I looked back and forth between the two men. When Holmes had told me to keep an open mind, I had braced myself for some bizarre crime. And yet, this was far more bizarre, far stranger then I could have fathomed. Holmes was suggesting that this man in front of me had traveled through time.

I paused, and then, began to laugh. Agent Mewes and Holmes glanced at me, but didn't look surprised as I tried to catch my breath. "I do say Holmes, a very good joke. You almost had me in on it. I bet you had Mrs. Hudson along as well." I sighed, smile upon my face, tears in my eyes from the laughter. "Come out with it man, who is this really? Some actor, repaying a debt to you by playing this ruse on me?"

Holmes smiled. "I also reacted in a similar fashion Watson, but I assure you, this man can prove his claims."

"And how is that."

Holmes nodded to Agent Mewes, who held up the newspaper. "This newspaper is from tomorrow. I got it before I came here to prove to you that I am who I say I am."

I smiled. "Ah, but it could easily be a fake."

Holmes nodded. "Very good Watson. You are thinking just as I did. Sometimes, it amazes me how similar our minds work." He smiled and gave me a piece of paper. "That is why I propose you do the same thing I did to see if Agent Mewes was being honest. I want you to take this slip of paper and place an ad in this paper for anything."

I paused, looking at Holmes. "And you are saying that it will be in that paper?" He nodded, and I began to think carefully. "I will place an ad for a horse, seeking on to pull my carriage."

Holmes nodded, and I moved away from them. However, I decided to play a trick on Holmes. Instead of writing an ad for a horse wrote a brief note about a pipe I had lost, one with pink and purple trim. Then, I placed it in a sealed envelope and gave it to Mrs. Hudson to send out, along with some pieces to pay for it's placement.

Once this had been done, Holmes handed me the paper. "See if your ad is in their Watson."

"It won't be Holmes." I said, opening to the advertisements. "I thought ahead and decided to ask not for a horse, but for…" I froze, as I looked down at an ad for a pink and purple pipe, signed, "Mr. Not Fooled." I turned back to Holmes, who nodded.

"The copper taste in the air came from Agent Mewes breaking the time barrier."

10 minutes later, after I had managed to calm my nerves with another cup of brandy, I sat in my usually chair, Holmes reclaiming his normal spot, while Agent Mewes was placed on the sitting couch near the window.

"Agent Mewes, I assume it is ok that I am here?" I asked.

He nodded. "We know all about you Mr. Watson. Infact, the only reason I was unsure of including you in this case was the fact that you might not be able to understand fully what I am about to tell you. However," He motioned at Holmes. "Mr. Holmes insures me that you are invaluable to this mission."

Holmes nodded. "We have already discussed the case in detail, so if we could give the basics to Watson, we can begin to plan our next steps."

Mewes nodded. "I come from the year 2004. During my time, the United States is the worlds only superpower." I chuckled, but grew quiet when Agent Mewes looked at me. "Our nation recently declared war against a country called Iraq."

"According to Mr. Mewes, the country won't even exist until after 1941." Holmes gave Mr. Mewes a look, and I had a feeling that there was more to this country's creation then simply coming into being.

"Why did you declare war?" I asked.

Agent Mewes ran his hand through his hair. "Well, you see Mr. Watson, that is why I am here." He stood up. "We had intelligence that Saddam Hussein," He paused, "I'm sorry, I forget when I am. Mr. Hussein is the leader of Iraq, or he was."

"You mean he will be." Holmes said with a smirk. "At least, in this time's concern."

"Yes." Agent Mewes said, keeping his face the same. It disturbed me slightly that he could remain so formal and distant. He put Sherlock to shame with the skill to remain aloof. "We had received intelligence that Mr. Hussein was creating weapons that could hurt millions of people."

"A good reason to declare war." I stated.

"Yes. The problem is, Saddam has been captured, we have searched his palaces…and there is not a trace of any of his weapons. The President believes that Mr. Hussein somehow hid these weapons. That's why I have come back."

Holmes nodded. "You want me to look for them."

"You have gained the reputation that you are the world greatest detective."

"A question arises." Holmes said. "I was thinking earlier…your country has gained the ability to travel through time."

Agent Mewes nodded. "Correct. The United States began testing of time travel during the 1920s. We have had a few incidents, as well as set backs, but in the year 1996 we first managed to send a man back to the War of 1812 and bring back a coin."

Holmes frowned. "Wouldn't that affect the future? Any change in the past will effect the future?"

"Actually, we have discovered that time doesn't work like that. It seems that time is designed to affect this…"

"In other words, you were always meant to travel back in time. You can't change the past, because you already tried."

"Exactly." Agent Mewes said. "Now, you had a question?"

"Yes. Why not simply travel forwards in time till you reach a point when you found the weapons. Seems that would work out just fine."

Agent Mewes shook his head. "The problem with that is that we have also discovered that in my time, we are the future."

I frowned, confused already and rapidly being pulled over my head. "You are the future?"

Holmes, it appeared, had already grasped the idea. "You see Watson, in Mr. Mewes' time, there is no time to travel forward to. They are the end of the line. Everything they do creates the future." I nodded, getting the idea. "So, that is why you need me. You need me to see where this Saddam Hussein has hidden the weapons, to insure that they don't fall into the wrong hands."

"Correct. You will be gone in your time for but a moment, and can spend as much time as you need in our world solving the mystery." Agent Mewes stood up. "So, if you are ready, the President is waiting." He paused, looking at Holmes. "Or…I suppose I could wait for you to change?"

Holmes stood up, heading to his room. In a few minutes he had returned, dressed quickly in a suit, clock and deerskin cap. Agent Mewes managed to smile.

"Very nice. The President will be happy that you chose to dress in your normal clothes."

"Normal?" Holmes said. "You are saying I am famous for these things?" He shook his heads. "I find that very depressing."

I had to chuckle at this. Holmes only wore that outfit when he was out of any other clean clothing, which happened to be most of the time. It was also the outfit he preferred to have soiled. He was a many that refused to throw anything away, less it was destroyed, which is why the deerskin cap, cloak and tweed suit were chosen when we were to go about the wilderness or some dark and dirty passage. To know that the world now identified him in that outfit must have been a blow to his ego.

Holmes and I stood next to Mewes, and took a hold of his arms, just as he asked us to. He pressed a few buttons upon his watch, and I suddenly felt as if I were back in Afghanistan, and a cannonball had just exploded next to me. I was blind, deaf and dumb…but I could taste copper.

When everything stopped spinning, I heard Holmes voice saying my name. I blinked, and realized that I was laying on the group. I blinked, and the world slowly came into focus, allowing me to see that Holmes was kneeling beside me, applying a wet cloth to my forehead.

"I guess we should have told you to close your eyes Watson." Holmes lent me a hand and gently lifted me to my feet. "The shifting of our molecules is painless, but the energy can knock you right out."

"How long have I been out Holmes?" I said, taking a look at our surroundings. We were in a large round room, the walls white, decorated with wood paneling that was about waist high, no direct sign of a door. The carpet was blue and plush to touch, and the entire area was decorated in a strange yet expensive taste. Behind me was a desk, and there were chairs all along the walls. I had the feeling that I was in some very stately manor, or a king's palace. However, remembering what I did from Agent Mewes, I realized we must be in the White of the year 2004.

I sat up to see a group of men watching us. One was seated at the desk, with gray hair and a soft face. Though he appeared to be sullen, I had the direct feeling that this man could never truly be upset. His face simply would not allow the emotion. Instead, he seemed to be stuck in forever happy or at least amused. He wore a blue suit with a red tie, and American Flag pin upon his collar. He had large ears that stood out for me, but otherwise appeared to be a man of simple likes, despite his clothing and setting.

Next to him was an older man, heavy set, with a gruff face. It seemed as if this gentlemen standing next to the seated man were his polar opposite. He was balding, with wispy white hair and deep-set, dark eyes. He had thick jowls, like the ones on a bulldog, and he seemed to have the same deposition. He wore a similar outfit to the man seated, his fat hands holding the desk, either to keep him standing or to keep him from storming out of the room.

The final man was the tallest of the three, and seemed to be a blend of the two men to his right. He was tall, with dark gray hair and an aged face. It was not as fallen as the other standing man, but still did not hold the kindness of the seated. He, instead seemed agitated, as if he were nervous. His face appeared calm, and yet also troubled.

"You were out only a few minutes." Holmes said. "But we are here, in the year 2004, in the office of President George W. Bush." He waved to the man seated, then to the one to his right. "That is Vice President Dick Cheney, and the other gentlemen, the one afraid for his job, his Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld."

Rumsfeld looked at Holmes, surprised. "Agent Mewes, what have you been telling this man?"

"Nothing sir!" The Agent said.

"Gentlemen, if you think so little of my talents that I would need this man to tell me that you are afraid for your job, then I might as well give up now and be asked to be sent home." Holmes shook his head. "Anyone with a brain in their skulls can see that you are nervous about today. Also, given your title, it is easy to see that it was your duty to help in the major planning of the war you were in, and you face blame for the mistakes. Now, you have also invited me here, meaning you are desperate. Mistake + Desperate Fear of a loss of position. Am I correct?"

"You live up to your reputation." President Bush said. "It is a good thing then that we brought you into this matter."

I looked at the three of them. "We our honored that you chose the two of us to help you on this case. I assure you, we will do all we can."

Holmes nodded. "First thing, I will need to know exactly what you have done to find the weapons." He pulled out a chair and sat down. He closed his eyes and let his chin sink to his chest, deep in thought. He took a few deep breaths, then nodded softly. "Go ahead."

Mr. Rumsfeld began. "The truth is that I am fearful for my job. IF we do not find the weapons soon, I will have to give up my position, should we win the election."

"Election?" I asked. "You are electing a new President?"

"I am running for office once again." President Bush said. "Against this boring tall guy, with a horse's face. Really long winded."

"I know the type." Holmes said calmly. "Now please, go on."

"We have always feared that Saddam was building WMDs." He paused. "Weapons of Mass Destruction. These items have the ability to destroy a city with a blast. They can either be explosives or chemical weapons that make people sick and die."

I looked to the three men, shocked by such brutality, and yet saw that they didn't even react. Holmes even stiffened slightly. I did not like to think that in the future, such things would be the norm. As terrible as the war in Afghanistan had been for me, I could not imagine facing what these men were talking about.

"The United Nations…a grouping of the worlds nations, working towards world peace, had sent officers to look for signs he was making weapons, but Saddam kicked them out. Finally, we decided we could not risk Saddam attacking the United States, so we struck first. We managed to drive him out of power, and even have captured him…but no weapons."

Holmes nodded. "I assume you have searched the country?" Rumsfeld nodded. "And what about this Saddam…has he not told you anything?"

"No." Cheney grumbled. "All he does is sit there and mock us. I swear, he gets my blood pumping."

"Now Dick, your heart." President Bush said. "As you can see, we are all a bit nervous about this. If news gets out that we went to war with faulty intelligence, we all risk losing our jobs." He leaned forward. "Do you think you could help us Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes remained quiet for some time, the only sign of him actually being alive and not have dying upon us were the deep, slow movements of his chest. President Bush shifted in his chair, uneasy, while the other two men remained focused on Holmes. I merely took in our surroundings, still getting use to the fact that we were so many years in the future. What changes must have occurred? What alterations. Part of me wanted to run outside and see what the world had become. The other half remained seated, for fear of what I might find.

As if reading my mind, Agent Mewes came to my side and whispered in my ear, "We are planning on keeping you gentlemen here in the building. We do not want you to get culture shock, and we plan to try and keep you away from as much of our modern technology as we can."

"That is good…though there are a few things I wish I would know. Like what state my dear England is in, or how history sees Sherlock Holmes and myself."

"We will provide histories of such things if you stay long enough."

Holmes, picking up this comment, nodded slightly. "I assure you, we will be here for a bit."

"Then you will take the case?" Rumsfeld said.

Holmes chuckled. "My dear fellow, you brought me all the way here. That tells me you need me, and I will not disappoint someone that needs me." He turned, looking past President Bush and out the window. "I will need to speak to Saddam."

All three men seemed to tense, then go into a state of shock. I looked at Agent Mewes, who shifted from on foot to the other, very uncomfortable. The three men each seemed to display a different emotion. President Bush seemed conflicted, as if he knew that this was a request long coming but had hoped he would never hear. Rumsfeld grit his teeth, but his face was in terror. Mr. Cheney seemed ready to attack Holmes.

"You're asking us to let you speak to that madman?" Cheney finally managed to say. "That is a breach of national security. You don't have the clearance, the training, the qualification…."

Holmes moved like a panther, instantly in Mr. Cheney's face, their noses almost touching as Holmes lowered himself slowly to Cheney's height. "If you wanted someone to sit in a room and give you fairy tales and false hope, then go out into your world and find someone that can do that. I am sure there a millions of agents that can bluff." His voice lowered to a whisper, his emotions returning to frozen status. "But if you want someone to find these missing weapons, you will let me talk to Saddam Hussein."

President Bush coughed, and Mr. Cheney stood down. Holmes took a step back, and looked at the President. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "We can have a meeting set up at 11 am tomorrow morning."

"Morning?" I said, startled. "My wife will be waiting for me for dinner! I can't go missing for a whole day and not contact her!"

"There is no problem Mr. Watson." Agent Mewes said. "With time travel, we are able to drop you down within seconds after we pulled you from your era."

I took a sigh of relief, and looked over at Holmes, who nodded. "We will also need a room for ourselves, where we can think in private along with food. I ask that no one bother us once we are settled until it is time to go visit Mr. Saddam. After that meeting I will be able to tell you what we will need to do next.

Holmes paced about the suite, utterly frustrated. His face was alight with a fire I had not seen in some time, and his usually icy emotions were blazing with fury.

We had been placed in one of the rooms of the White House, one without anything that could be considered "new technology" to us. I was not quite sure what they would deem new technology, but so far they had limited us to only receiving reading material. Even this, though, was mind-blowing. The papers I requested were from Britain, censored for our sake I was told, but the mere fact that they had been able to get a paper from across the Atlantic to my bedroom door was enough to make me wonder what advances they had truly made during the last 116 years.

"I can not believe this!' Holmes shouted, glancing at one of the papers I had asked for. "Never have I had a case where I was more upset over the place then I was over the facts."

I glanced up from my readings. "What do you mean Holmes? Are you saying you have solved the case?"

Holmes shook his head. "I am not going to be rash about that Watson. There are still one or two details I need to sort out beforehand, but I am confident enough in my solution that I can focus on our current situation." He sat down in a chair and sighed. "Can you believe the nerve of those agents, not allowing me to smoke? 'It's bad for your health' they said."

"Well Holmes, this is the future. Maybe they have learned more about the world then we have, and found some flaw in smoking."

Holmes snorted. "Next you will tell me that cocaine is bad for you." He sighed, staring at the ceiling. "It's more then that. From what I have gathered, our own country has been reduced to being second to…America." Holmes said this last part as if the word was some sort of vile drink.

"I must agree with you on that part Holmes. Seems England hasn't had the best of luck in this future. I mean," I handed Holmes a paper. "What is so important about this Princess Diane? She divorced the Prince, and yet the people worship her! Divorce!" It was my turn to snort. "What has happened to the world?"

Holmes nodded, crumpling up the paper and tossing it aside. "At least we are somewhat well known in this future. To have had your stories last 116 years is quite a feat."

"Except they give credit to my pen name." I said, my ego bruised on that. I had used the name 'Arthur Conan Doyle' as a pen name, so that my patients wouldn't feel queer about being treated by an author. I wanted to keep my writing life and my medical life separate. However, it seemed as if through the test of time, my name had been reduced to the 'fictional' writer, while my fake name was the 'true' author of the stories of Holmes.

"And can you believe some of the other novels they feel are on par with yours?" Holmes said. While Holmes was not a man of fiction, he was a man none the less, and had his pride. He glared at a printout I had asked for of some of the greater novels in the last few years. "A story about some boy wizard at a school. Tales of how the Catholic Church is covering things up." Holmes paused, and smiled. "Maybe that one is true. But please explain who this "Steven King' is and where he finds the time to write as much as he does!"

I chuckled and moved to the bed. "I think I will need a good night's rest. All this time travel and strange life ending machines, it makes my mind weary." As I got under the covers, I saw Holmes click on the strange device on the desk, a lamp, Agent Mewes had called it, though like no lamp I had ever seen. I wondered how that little switch could turn off and on the candle inside the glass, but I was not brave enough to break it open and find out.

"I think I will stay up a bit more, think things out. Goodnight Watson."

After a breakfast of toast and jam, as well as a hot shower, we were dressed and taken to a large building. The vehicle, a horseless carriage of some sorts, though quieter then the trains I was use to in my time, swiftly brought us into a garage, where we were led inside. After several minutes, the President and a few agents led us into a room. It was covered with strange glowing devices, numbers and figures upon their screens. I took this all in with shock, but Holmes was calm, ignoring everything but the window that dominated the room.

Behind it was a room, a man of Middle East in there. He had curling black hair and a thin beard, with dark, deep eyes. His skin was tanned and old, looking as if he had experienced a rough life. Yet, from what we had learned from the agents, he had once lived in the lap of luxury. I almost felt sorry for the man. He had gone from being a king of a country to being locked in that small room. However, if he had possessed what the President and the other men claimed, then I knew such feelings were wasted on that man.

"I will be but a moment." Holmes opened a door and entered the room. The men all remained quiet, trying to listen in on the conversation. But Holmes leaned in and began to whisper some things into Mr. Hussein's ear. After a few nods, Saddam appeared angry, and began to shout at Holmes. Holmes left the room and smiled. "Gentlemen, I have solved the case."

Everyone stared at Holmes, their minds trying to process this information. I looked to each one of them, then back to Holmes as he looked through the window at Saddam, who was currently screaming something that sounded vulgar.

"Well…out with it man!" President Bush said

"YES!" Rumsfeld added. "Where are the weapons?"

Holmes shrugged. "There never were any. Your intelligence was wrong."

All of them in the room seemed to seize up, staring at Holmes as if he had suddenly grew 20 feet tall with two heads. I for one had expected him to come up with an answer quickly, but never thought he would say this.

"How…how can you be so sure!" President Bush said, his voice shaky. "You haven't looked at any of our intel, at any of the reports or…"

"There is no need to. The solution was there the moment I appeared in this time. I merely wanted to tell Mr. Saddam something before I revealed the answer, as well as see how history viewed me. Having done both, it serves me no purpose to keep you all clinging to false hope.

"You see gentlemen, the first thing that I found odd was that you managed to wage war against this Saddam and his country so easily. I mean, had he the weapons you feared, why not use them? What purpose would there be to hold onto them? This was the one reason that would justify such an attack, yet he never attacked with anything note worthy?"

"But Mr. Holmes, there was the chance he was building such weapons and had yet to perfect them." Mr. Cheney said. "Did you forget that?"

"No." Holmes said. "But other then the fact that you could not find such sites, another thing bothered me. I do not know anything about these weapons. And yet, you were so desperate for an answer, you brought me, someone who had no clue about any of this, to come and solve the case.

"Remember, I said that only those with no options left contact me. So it was for you. I thought in reverse on your mindset. What reason would lead the United States Government to call in a detective from over a 100 years ago?" Holmes sighed, closing his eyes. "I want to set the stage.

"You declare war on Saddam, and win easily. However, there is a problem. There are no weapons. So, you first begin to look all over the land. Nothing. So, you use your time machine to go back and spy on Saddam, no?" The three men nodded weakly. "I thought as much. No luck. What are you to do? Call me in, and pray that I can magically bring to life some weapons." Holmes shook his head. "Gentlemen…you screwed up."

Donald Rumsfeld leaned against the wall, looking as if he had been shot in the gut. The other two men weren't fairing as well either. He licked his lips and looked at Holmes. "That's it? No weapons?"

"Sir, we British people don't have magic, despite what your futuristic children's books say. I cannot make something appear when there was nothing there. You have known that there were no weapons, but you clung to a fools hope."

Dick Cheney sighed. "Then we are doomed. We'll all lose our jobs."

I shook my head. "I am sure the public will forgive you if you come out with the truth."

"The public is already divided on my administration." President Bush said. "This mistake will be the thing that costs me the election. And even if it doesn't, my place in history is tarnished."

Holmes shook his head. "Mr. President, it seems to me that all that changes here is the way you address the war." President Bush looked at him carefully. "Simply state that you invaded Iraq to free the people, and that the whole weapons claim was simply something to say to the American people, since it would be to complicated to give the real answers."

Dick Cheney shook his head. "The American people will never buy that."

"I know they will." Holmes said. "Now, if you would be so kind, I would like to be returned to my dwelling." Holmes bowed to the three men. "Watson and I have been honored to aid you at this time. I am sure it will make a great story, though I doubt it will ever be read by anyone for 200 years past even your time."

After Agent Mewes had left us for the last time, I sat down in my chair, glad to be back at good olds Bakers Street. Holmes had taken his pipe, and after giving it a healthy dose of tobacco, sat next to the fire and inhaled it's vapors.

Finally, I broke the silence. "I have to know Holmes…what did you say to Saddam?"

Holmes smiled. "I merely asked if he were the leader of Iraq and if he were captured by the Americans. When he confirmed, I told him in no few words that he had to be the dumbest man alive to be captured by those men." He laughed. "Truly Watson, I think this case, were you to write it down, would be your most humorous. The three leaders of the United States, so desperate to find something to justify their war, call in the great Sherlock Holmes?" Holmes snorted. "Pathetic."

"Holmes, I was also wondering…how do you know that the people of America will buy that story you gave President Bush?"

To this Holmes smiled softly and leaned back in his chair, taking the pipe from his mouth. "I have learned many things Watson, but one remains true through all my life, and that travel through time confirms it: Technology may advance, wealth may increase, power may shift…but gullibility will always be constant."

The End


End file.
